Fighting, Fighting, Everywhere!
by Mike-045
Summary: My own rendering of Jet and Zuko's duel.  Oneshot at the moment, but will probably evolve over time.  Details inside, all criticism wanted and expected, story better than summary, blah blah blah, just read it!


**Author's Notes:** Hey…this is more of a break from me trying to straighten out the plot for _Repercussions_, as I've really been wanting to pen my own version of Jet and Zuko's climactic duel, for no specific reason, lol. Well…I'll cut to the chase. There's a fairly good chance that I'll add more to this one story, in the form of my own versions of various fights in the Avatar universe, in no certain order. These could range in anything from Gyatso's last stand to the siege of the Northern Water Tribe, so keep an eye or two open.

One thing, for which I apologize, is that I can't seem to recall whether or what aliases Zuko and Iroh were going by at this point. As such, I'll use the aforementioned names, and if this is incorrect, simply tell me and I'll be sure to fix it! Another thing, I can't remember where Jet sheathed his swords-on his back or on his thighs? I'll assume that they're strapped to his back for the story, but please correct me if that is wrong.

If there's one thing that I cannot stand, it is to bore my (few?) readers, or more importantly, myself, so let's get on with the show!

**Disclaimer:** As with anything I am tempted to write, I own nothing other than the ground beneath my feet…and that belongs to my dad!

**Duel of the Fates.**

The sun fell silently behind the immense city of Ba Sing Se, providing an awe-inspiring backdrop of reds, oranges, pinks and yellows to the dozing megalopolis. Thousands of people were on their way home, some astride or leading ostrich horses, most simply shuffling their feet to a warm hearth.

Others, however, were just getting started in their daily routines. Such was the case of a pair of men, one beginning the slow march to old age, and the other unearthing the wonders of maturity.

They were both garbed in dark green robes embroidered in rustic, earthy tones. The older man possessed a full beard, gray to match his long hair. His younger counterpart stood easily taller than him, and had an untidy dark smock, though next to nothing in terms of facial hair.

However, the distinguishing mark on this young man was a horrendous burn mark encompassing the left side of his face, and a constantly squinting eye.

Oddly enough, he acted as though it was not, and never had been, there.

At this moment, he was utilizing a short rod, the tip lit aflame, to light several lanterns hanging in the windows and doorway of their shop.

He paused, staring at the flame-seemingly enchanted by it-though small, anything, even a spark, could erupt into a blazing firestorm. It could warm a bedside, or destroy the entire house. He nonchalantly led it through the air, a path of smoke trailing behind it. It was incredible-how could such a small source of heat encompass so much power? In his hands, he could light a city, or level it-

Suddenly, his uncle's fingers appeared in his face and the small fire went out.

The aging man gruffly whispered, "Zuko, are you trying to draw attention to us? We came here to escape the past-not introduce it!"

The young man, now confirmed as 'Zuko', simply nodded, his eyes glassed over and staring at the smoking tip of the rod. He slowly blinked, and then shook his head as if to clear it of troubling thoughts.

He gradually lifted his face to peer into that of his uncle's, not unlike a reprimanded puppy. He muttered, "I apologize, uncle. Its just…it feels unnatural, not doing-"

But before he could continue, the first trickle of customers had begun to enter the shop, and several had already seated themselves in the numerous booths and tables scattered about.

However, a man quite similar in size and build to Zuko waltzed into the small shop, kicking over a chair in the process, which resulted in an ugly black scuff to the floor.

Several of the shop's residents shot him disapproving looks, but he continued on to the counter, rudely slamming his arms down on the bar and, sneering, ordered a small cup of green tea.

Ordinarily, Iroh would have gripped a boy such as this by the collar and given him a quick exodus from his shop.

Except this "boy" was armed with a pair of tiger hook swords-complicated weapons, a rarity among the denizens of the Earth Kingdom.

Setting up the previously overturned chair, Iroh began to turn to the delinquent, but was stopped by Zuko, who had already gripped the other adolescent's shoulder.

Before he could even begin to question him, the other had shoved Zuko's hand off of his shoulder in a snarl, and spat, "not doing what, dare I ask? Seemed to me like you were a little too friendly with that light over there…" glancing at Zuko's mutilated face, he continued on, "but I suppose you've got quite a history with fire, don't you?"

A handful of the customers, some in the middle of their tea, promptly gasped aloud at this insult to the victim's honor. One man, apparently expecting a fight, hustled out the door, saying something to himself about cabbages.

However, the insulted man did not strike back, offer up a defense to the taunt, or break out in tears. Instead, he calmly marched to the back of the shop, not one person speaking, and, pushing a curtain aside, entered a back room.

Every eye in the room turned to smug boy, some scolding, others curious. He simply grinned wider and stood to his full height, and then shouted into the shrouded room ahead, "that's right, just like a Fire Nation dog. As soon as you're defeated, you turn and run away! If you really were from the Earth Kingdom, you wouldn't have taken that! A real warrior, a real man, would beat down that kind of insult! But the Fire Nation is full of anything but; I suppose…" at this point, he trailed off into a string of murmuring insults and curses, much to Iroh's chagrin. He tottered forward, and raised his hand to usher the boy out of his shop. However, just as his hand brushed the taller man's shoulder, several things happened at once.

There was a sound of ringing metal, a woman screamed, and the world became a blur of stinging pain and an abrupt, crushing halt.

Looking up, Iroh saw the younger man snarling at him like a cornered hyenavark.

"How-dare-you-touch-me!" The boy, feigning anger, brandished his other weapon, and several men shouted as a woman ran out the door, screaming for the authorities.

Iroh, tasting blood, only offered, "What is it you want from me?"

"Simple. A duel. Though, I doubt you'll put up much of a fight, you old coot."

Iroh stuttered, but stopped as another sound of metal on metal resounded through the room.

Zuko was back.

"It's a fight, you want? Then I'll give you a fight." In both of his hands appeared a pair of identical dao, broadswords, the polished steel glimmering faintly in the musty room.

Jet appeared taken aback for a moment, but then smiling faintly and quietly stated, "and so it begins."

There was a sound like lightning, and the two combatants met. Jet swung one of his swords in a wide arc, the other trailing behind at a sharp angle.

The strike connected-with a pillar of stone. Zuko sent his own attack home, a vicious kick to Jet's abdomen. The stricken boy grunted, and caught one of Zuko's dao in the hook of his free sword, and swinging it, hurled the stolen weapon into an opposing wall, thickly embedding it.

Freeing his other sword, Jet charged his surprised opponent, who leaned out of the swing at the last second, causing Jet to continue forward on his momentum into a table.

Those remaining in the room had begun to back away-the fight was really starting to heat up, as could be seen by Zuko being thrown out of the open window and into the street.

Jet, crouching in the windowsill like a cat, shouted out into the darkness, "Just like I thought! Too scared of messing up your hair than to come back and fight, you coward!"

However, he had actually stopped speaking in the middle of "coward," due to Zuko's remaining dao impaling itself into the wall a hair's breadth from Jet's face.

His eyes the size of saucers, Jet leapt back into the deserted shop as the sword's owner retrieved his sword, and hurled himself back into the room, a look of bizarre calm on his face. Glancing over at Jet, the two locked eyes as Zuko placidly walked over to reclaim his second blade, but was interrupted by Jet exploded into him, his hooked blades forging a vortex of destruction.

Backpedaling, Zuko was barely able to block the strikes as he was forced to march backwards into the clearing street, trading blows all the while.

Suddenly, Jet turned on his heel and kicked Zuko in the gut, sending the wounded boy flying into a tall fountain nearby.

However, as he jogged over to the fountain and peered in, Zuko wasn't there.

Confused, Jet scanned another section of the pool, right before the area in front of him exploded.

Zuko, the single dao in his left hand, delivered a punch to Jet's right cheekbone. He heard something crack, and Jet sailed through the air for several yards before rolling along the ground, tumbling to a short halt.

Zuko exhaled. Thinking the fight over, the crowd encircled Jet's limp body and Zuko's pale form.

Taking time to actually examine his opponent, Zuko's eyes moved to the twin blades in Jet's hands.

From what he knew, they were incredibly well crafted swords, referred to as tiger head blades, for reasons unknown to him. They were intricately made, an elaborate hand guard merging beautifully with the lithe single-edged blade. They were surely worth a fortune, enough to make the expelled Prince stare in disbelief.

He paid so much attention to the detail on the weapons, that he almost failed to register that they-and their owner-were about to cleave his head from their shoulders.

Giving a startled yelp, Zuko raised his single blade to block Jet's two, and the resulting merging of force made Zuko's teeth rattle.

Looking into the eyes of his opponent, Jet whispered through gritted teeth, "Thought you could hide, coward? Two can play that game, and I feel that I won."

The next moment, the two were separated, blades flashing, an elaborate thread of light and steel woven between them.

Zuko, swinging the sword-now in his right hand-was promptly blocked by a counterattack by Jet's left-handed blade, followed by a forward stab from the left's counterpart.

Zuko grabbed Jet's wrist, and pulled him forward into a skull-rending head butt.

Despite the ensuing pain, Zuko used this as little more than a distraction to free his trapped blade, which luckily worked.

Before he could utilize it, however, Jet had sprinted down a side alley between the teashop and a building beside it. Zuko followed.

Leaping atop some stacked crates, Jet fended off Zuko's following blows, and, jumping up, hooked one of his swords onto one of many wooden polls serving as rafters between the buildings.

Swinging forward, he managed to propel himself in this fashion faster than Zuko could run below.

Soon, however, the adrenaline left his system, and the long fighting caught up with Jet. Swinging himself atop a nearby building, he made to sheath his swords-but a dark figure on the same roof prompted him to halt this motion.

The figure was tall, at least six feet, and was garbed in what appeared to be a specialized Earth Kingdom soldier's uniform. He (Jet assumed it was a he, both from the goatee and strong build) stared at Jet from unseen eyes.

Then he spoke, gender confirmed from a deep, masculine voice, "You are hereby under arrest for unprovoked assault, false charges of ancestry, and destruction of property, both private and public."

They continued the staring contest.

Then, Jet noticed the man's hands-they were quite oversized, and hadn't moved since his arrival.

Moonlight filtered over the wide brim of the soldier's helmet, revealing an insignia that could strike fear into any living man.

_Dai Li._

Smirking, Jet spoke, "Well, I guess you're going to assume that I'll come quietly then, aren't you?"

Once again, he was interrupted mid-sentence as a fist-sized rock flew toward his head.

Leaning to the left, out of the rock's trajectory, Jet raised his right sword, hook facing the rock.

He caught it.

Spinning on his heel, Jet used both his momentum and the projectile's to hurl the stone at the agent's chest, knocking the man off of the building with a small explosion, sending the Dai Li tumbling off of the rooftop, and into a hay-laden wagon below.

Gulping, Jet remembered something of dire importance.

_Dai Li never traveled alone._

He leaped off of the roof, catching one of the poles from earlier, and swung his way back from where he came.

* * *

Several paranoia-laced minutes later, he landed softly on the ground, and glanced around. 

Thinking it clear, he took a step forward-just as the shadows enveloped him, the emblem on their chests declaring his captors Dai Li.

He opened his mouth to shout for help, but a gloved hand forced a vial of some strange, burning liquid down his throat.

He was soon unconscious.

* * *

Meanwhile, Zuko was carefully pulling his sword out of the wall, it's twin stowed away upstairs. 

Hearing footsteps, he turned around, fists clenched, only to see that it was a young woman, about his age and slightly shorter than he.

She looked incredibly nervous, and muttered hurriedly, "My name's Jin. What you did was really brave."

Her face then reddened immensely, and she hurried out the door.

Fairly confused, Zuko looked over to the counter, where Iroh stood.

There was a strange glint in the old man's eyes.

**Author's Notes.**

There you go…hope you liked it. A lot of it was going off of assumption, and I think that I captured the character's…character…alright.

Thanks for reading, please review,

-mike


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